Steal Your Heart
by mslaurenhaley
Summary: Blaine Anderson gets a summer job at Hummel Tire's and Lube after getting kicked out of his home. As time goes by, he finds himself undeniably and completely love with the owner's son, Kurt. Together, the two of them are in for a summer neither of them will ever forget.
1. Chapter 1

Blaine Anderson was used to the nicer things in life.

When he was eight, he stayed at the Plaza Hotel in New York City for two weeks while his dad was on business. Two nights after they got there, a limo showed up, taking him and his parents to Beauty and the Beast on Broadway, where they had front row tickets.

On his sixteenth birthday, he woke up to the sounds of a ring of keys being dropped onto his night table by his father. He opened his eyes and saw his parents, motioning to the window. There was a brand new car parked out front. A metallic black Range Rover to be specific, complete with the stereotypical red bow one would see in movies.

Two years later, and now here Blaine was, carefully walking along a Ohio highway. The only things he had were a ten dollar bill in his front pocket and a folded up paper of sheet music in his back. He tried out three or four different hand signals that he had seen in movies, but not one car stopped for him.

It was around eleven at night, and the air was getting colder and colder, which was quite unusual for a late spring night in Westerville. For the around two hours he had been walking, the traffic was lessening by the minute. At this point, he was becoming doubtful that he would find anyone to take him away from here.

Blaine groaned. He should have waited until the morning to talk to his parents. Or had a plan of where he was going to go or what the hell he was doing. Now, he was undeniably screwed.

A tractor trailer started driving towards him. Possibly his last chance, Blaine thought to himself as he stepped closer to the road and stuck out his left thumb, jumping up and down a little in hopes of being seen by the driver.

He was. The truck slowed down a bit, the driver probably studying him, judging him, seeing if he looked like a cocaine addict. That could be a real turn off for one picking out hitchhikers.

The truck came to a halt. Blaine saw the driver motion for him to come in, and that's exactly what Blaine did.

* * *

**11:08**

Kurt Hummel had trouble sleeping at night.

It's not unusual for the average person to have some nights where they toss and turn a bit more than normal. However, Kurt's nights were like that every night.

He laid on his side, watching his alarm clock, counting to sixty every time the number would change. He had already watched the clock change sixteen times, every moment suddenly becoming longer and longer.

Sometimes, Kurt would lay on his back with his hands folded and stare at the ceiling. He would think about all of the good things that would happen to him someday. He would move to New York City a year from now. He would get into a good fashion school or maybe an arts school. ("Decision pending." he told people who would ask.) Four years later, he would graduate at the top of his class, get a fantastic job and an apartment in the Upper East Side that looks like it's straight out of a magazine. He meets an incredibly good looking guy (though not better looking than he is) and they get married and have kids.

But that was just the main and temporary layout. Things could change.

Tonight, dreaming of the future wasn't enough.

**11:09**

Kurt laid on his back and kicked the covers off of him. There was no way in hell that he was going to sleep right now.

_ When Kurt was six and couldn't sleep, he would get out of bed and go into his parent's room. He would stand at his mother's side of the bed, tugging at the covers. Usually, she would wake up instantly and get up in bed. _

_ "Can't sleep, angel?" she would whisper._

_ Kurt shook his head no._

_ "Let's see if we can fix that." His mother would get out of bed and take his hand. The two of them would quietly walk downstairs to the kitchen. She would sit Kurt on one of the counter stools and make two glasses of warm milk, one for the each of them. Kurt would babble on about his friends from school, how awesome it was that Power Rangers came on right after Sailor Moon, and how much he wished it was Christmas already because he already has the perfect outfit picked out that will compliment the tree and the stockings. His mother would sip his milk and honestly listen to every word that came out of her son's mouth._

_ Fifteen minutes would pass, and Kurt would be falling asleep, still mumbling. His mother would smile, put the cups in the sink, and carry her son back up to bed._

**11:10**

Warm milk, Kurt decided, was a necessity right now. He quietly walked upstairs, knowing Burt probably passed out on the couch again while watching whatever football or baseball or basketball game was on that night. Kurt could never keep up.

When he got to the top of the stairs, he heard a voice talking above the noise of the television. He poked his head around the side of the door and saw Burt sitting at the counter, the phone pressed against his ear and scribbling on a small pad of paper.

"Dad?" Kurt called out.

Burt didn't look up. "I'll come by and see him tomorrow. Thanks Shelby." He hung up.

Kurt walked into the kitchen. Burt put his head in his hands. "Dad, what's wrong?"

Burt finally looked at his son and let out a stressed sigh. "That was Shelby. Michael had a heart attack tonight.

"What?" Kurt exclaimed.

Burt nodded. "We don't know what happened. One minute they were eating dinner. The next, he was slumped over and making noises."

Michael was, as Burt put it, an honorary Hummel. Ever since Burt opened Hummel's Tires and Lube, Michael was there. He started off as a twenty five year old college dropout who knew a thing or two about cars. Almost twenty years later, he was one of the head mechanics at the shop and one of Burt's closest friends. Although Michael usually smelled of heavy cigarette smoke and way too much cologne, Kurt still liked him a lot. He was like the uncle Kurt never had.

Kurt was still gaping. "Is-is he okay?"

"In surgery." Burt answered, his voice shaky. He stood up and walked into the living room. "No one really knows what's going on at this point." He sat down.

Kurt followed him and sat down next to him, resting his head on his father's shoulder. There was nothing else he could say or do. For the rest of the night, the two of them sat there watching a Full House marathon in silence. Even though they both openly hated the show, neither one of them felt reaching over to grab the remote.

* * *

It was around one in the morning when Blaine saw the big "Welcome to Lima!" sign at the side of the highway. For the first time in about fifty miles, he saw buildings instead of farmland and some signs of life- a homeless man sleeping on a bench and a woman and man, both decked out in everything leather, smoking outside of a gas station.

The truck came to a sudden halt, causing Blaine's stomach to lurch. "I'm only driving to the other end of this town. This is a much better place to get off than downtown." The driver told Blaine. The driver, Tony, looked like he could be the head of a motorcycle gang. He was around thirty pounds overweight, clad in a denim jacket with cutoff sleeves, exposing his arms full of multicolored tattoos. He had an overgrown, bushy gray beard. He was almost sixty, he told Blaine earlier in the car ride, and during the winter months, he (fittingly) played Santa Claus at a shopping mall in Nashville.

Blaine nodded understandingly. He grabbed his bag and opened the truck door. "Thanks for the ride, Tony."

"I don't usually pick up hitchhikers, but you looked like an okay kid. I was right."

"Thanks." Blaine smiled at the old man one last time.

Tony wished Blaine good luck as he climbed out of the tractor trailer and shut the door. Blaine watched the truck continue down the highway until he couldn't see it anymore. He slung his small, black duffel bag over his shoulder and began walking along the side of the road. He hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours. This time last night, he was wandering along the side of a main road in Westerville.

He had no idea where he was going. But with every step he took, he was getting farther and farther away from where he was twenty-four hours ago and that was progress in his eyes.

He spotted a twenty four hour diner out of the corner of his eye. It was one of the most obnoxious shades of pink he had ever seen, and the letters D and I were flickering on and off on the fluorescent sign. But Blaine was in the mood for a mediocre burger. He hadn't eaten in what felt like a week. In reality, it was only a day. So to the diner he went.

* * *

When Kurt awoke, it was almost nine in the morning. He was sprawled out on the couch, alone, with a couch throw on him. Uncle Jesse was jumping out of an airplane on his wedding day on the TV.

Two things crossed his mind; number one: _Uncle Jesse, you're an idiot. How could you do this to Becky? And your twins? Wait, did the twins come first, or the wedding? This is a family show, they had to have gotten married first. But you're still an idiot. Of course you scream have mercy. Who wrote this? Jackass._

And of course, number two: _Where's dad?_

A sheet of poorly ripped notepad paper with Burt's chicken scratch handwriting was on the coffee table. Kurt sat up and grabbed it.

**_Kurt-_**

**_Went to the shop. Get your ass to school whenever you decide to wake up._**

**_-Dad_**

Kurt couldn't help but laugh. Burt never got irritated with him, so whenever he would write a note or text message pretending that he was, it was pretty hilarious to Kurt.

Kurt got up and did as he was told. Thirty minutes later, he was on his way out of the house with a travel mug of coffee in his hand and his bag full of books slung over his shoulder.

The sky was one of the most beautiful shades of air was warm and the trees leaves on the trees were all turing a vibrant green. As Kurt got into the car, he thought about how he would have to head up to the mall and shop for summer clothes.

He started to pull out of the driveway. _Nordstroms is having it's half yearly sale soon. All of the shirts and shoes, not to mention-_

"STOP!"

Kurt stomped on the brakes and spun around.

A brunette man was standing extremely close to his back bumper, breathing heavily.

Kurt opened the door and got out. "What the hell are you doing?"

The guy walked around to Kurt's side of the car. Kurt could see him better now. The man- maybe twenty- had big hazel eyes. His brunette hair was a mess of curls, and he obviously hadn't shaved in a good two or three days. Speaking of two or three days, that also seemed to be the last time this guy slept as well. He was dressed in Levi jeans and a Burberry Crewneck, so there was no way he was homeless. Unless he mugged someone.

He was also pretty good looking.

_Stop it, Kurt._

He quickly switched back into reality. "Don't you know how to look before you walk?"

Mr. Good Looking looked extremely cross. "Don't you know how to drive?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me? I'm not the one who walked out in front of a car that's obviously backing out."

"I saw you! You were barely even looking behind you!" Okay. Mr. Good Looking was pretty hot when he was angry. And it was catching Kurt off guard.

Kurt didn't know what to say. "What? I-yes I certainly was!"

The man rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Princess." He started to walk down the sidewalk again.

Kurt went after him. "Hey! What makes you think you can talk to me like that?"

He saw Mr. Good Looking/Bad Attitude shrug a little as he continued down the street.

Kurt watched him for a while before giving up and getting back into his car. From the time he pulled out of the driveway until he got to school, the guy was all that was on his mind.

* * *

Blaine ate his mediocre burger at the diner, used the last of his money to pay for it, and winded up passing out on a bench outside the place. He got a good six hours of sleep before a police officer woke him up and told him that he couldn't stay there anymore. Sleeping on benches is against the law, apparently. So off Blaine went through Lima, watching the city wake up. Watching a city in the morning was one of Blaine's favorite things in the world.

He walked through downtown Lima, taking his time. All and all, it was a pretty decent place. Whenever he smiled at people in Westerville, he got an average of 10 smiles in return per morning walk. In Lima, he counted somewhere near 23 or 24.

He made it to the more residential area around nine. His trip was briefly stopped after getting ran over by a cute blue eyed boy, but there was no time for that. Thinking about that was one of the main reasons he was in this situation in the first place. He kept going. He walked and walked until he got closer to downtown Lima, the place Tony told him was a place he wouldn't want to be in at night. It was the morning, so it was probably safe.

The first place he saw was a run down coffee shop, which could have easily been mistaken for a crack house one would see in a movie. Even the next place was nicer looking and it was a tire shop and garage. Hummel's Tires and Lube. Blaine always giggled like a ten year old when he saw the word lube on a sign.

An older man in coveralls and a baseball hat walked outside, a paper in his hands. As the man taped it to the front window, Blaine passed by and read it.

**Help Wanted**

The man started to walk back inside. Blaine stopped.

What was he doing?

The ultimate goal in his mind was New York City. It was always New York City. Performing was the blood that ran through his veins, and music was the only reason he was still alive. That's where he wanted to go.

But with what? He just spent his last ten dollars on a shitty burger from a diner that had pictures of elderly people swimming on the walls. He had nothing. If he hitchhiked to New York, he would be homeless and searching for food in the trash in a day.

_But _if he got a little money, he could rent out an apartment and get discovered and everything right would happen.

Maybe he got dropped off in Lima for a reason. Maybe Tony was a guardian angel sent from above to steer him in the right direction. Or maybe he was actually Santa Claus and this was an early Christmas present. Either way, it's destiny.

Blaine turned around. "Excuse me, sir!"


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt drove straight to the garage immediately after glee club ended that evening. Besides the fact that he was in a terrible mood ever since he found out about Michael's heart attack, it only worsened when Rachel, Mercedes, and Santana got into a gigantic cat fight after a diva off for the solo at Nationals. It took them two hours to figure out that maybe, possibly the three of them can do a incredible song all together, and they could all show off their vocal chops at one point or another. It was their last Nationals together, after all.

It didn't really help that none of the members of the club seemed to understand the guidelines. The theme was Harmony, and Rachel convinced everybody for the first few weeks after they received the letter that it meant they all had to sing everything together in harmony, no solos. It wasn't until Rachel snuck into a Vocal Adrenaline rehearsal and Mike talked to a friend who went to Dalton that they found out that they really meant harmony, as in peace and harmony. Like, Beatles "All You Need Is Love" era harmony. For once, they had a (sad) excuse on why it was days before Nationals and they had no setlist.

Kurt pulled up at Hummel Tire and Lube and went inside. He waved to a few of the straggling workers that were finishing up a 1972 Lincoln Continental. The walls to his dad's office were clear, and he could see Burt was there. He was going through a stack of papers on his already cluttered desk. He had his glasses on the brim of his nose, a rarity, and he was chewing on the cap of a pen, something pretty usual. Kurt walked in. "Hey dad!"

Burt looked up and smiled at his son. "Hey sport. How was rehearsal?"

Kurt let out an exasperated sigh and sat down on a rolling chair next to his father. "Exhausting. I wanted my last few Glee club rehearsals to be fun, not complete and utter torture."

"Well, you only have a few left. Cherish them." Burt said."

"I know... What are you doing?"

Burt rolled his chair over to the file cabinet and started to dig around through a drawer. "Doing some paperwork for the kid I just hired today. I'll get some real shit from the Department of Labor again if I don't do it immediately."

Kurt wasn't sure he heard his father right. "You what?"

"I hired someone." Burt repeated.

"Dad," Kurt was shocked. "You never just hire someone. You didn't even let me start helping you until I was fourteen."

"Thirteen." Burt laughed. "I remember because you came here to help after school in that ridiculous plaid Catholic school uniform. That was eighth grade."

Kurt buried his face in his hands and started to laugh. "Please, lets not bring up the darkest days of my life again." He looked up at his father again. "But seriously, dad. You hired someone already? Michael just got sick less than twenty four hours ago."

Burt rolled back over to the desk. "Now that Michael's in a coma, I need some more help around the shop. Just someone to do some small stuff so I can have time to do the big jobs. I put up a help wanted sign and the kid came right over. His name is Blaine."

* * *

_"Excuse me, sir!"_

_ Burt stopped in the garage doorway. He turned around and saw the kid for the first time. He didn't look much older than his own son. He approached Burt nervously. "You're looking for someone to work for you?"_

_ Burt nodded, studying the guy suspiciously. In Burt's mind, he was going to hire someone older who could could work full time for the time being. This kid looked like he was barely out of high school. "Yeah. My main guy is sick. Need someone to do some of the smaller things around the shop for me."_

_ "Like what?"_

_"Tire and lube changes. Minor fixes to car engines. Brake checks. The small stuff."_

_ The boy let out a sigh of relief and grinned at Burt. "I can do all of that. More than that, even. I've worked on cars before. I had a semester and three quarters at Ohio State, where I had a 4.0. I'm trustworthy and honest and hardworking an-"_

_ "Hold your horses." Burt, although impressed with the sound of Blaine's oral resume, put up his hands as a signal for him to stop talking. "I don't even know your name.'_

_ The boy stuck out his hand. "I'm Blaine. Nineteen. Of Westerville, Ohio." _

_ Goddamn. The kid had manners too. If he actually knew how to do what he said he could, he would be too good to be true. Burt hesitantly wiped his greasy hands on his coveralls shook his hand. "Burt. Much older than you. Of right here."_

_ "Pleasure, sir." Blaine looked like a cartoon to Burt. He had been wearing the same gigantic smile on his face for a while. Burt wondered to himself if it hurt or not to do that. _

_ "So, Blaine. You worked with cars?" Burt asked, however, it sounded much more like a statement._

_ Blaine nodded. "I used to put together and fix cars with...with my father." Burt could have sworn he saw Blaine cringe at the mention of his father. Burt frowned and opened his mouth to inquire._

_ "I could really use the job." Blaine added in quickly. "I-This is my last resort. I have nowhere else to go. You can count on me, I swear to god."_

_ Burt stared at Blaine for a few moments, Finally, he beckoned for Blaine to follow him back into the garage. "Come on in, kid. We'll talk."_

* * *

"So that's what happened. He came inside, we had a cup of joe, he proved to me that he could do everything he said. He even helped me finish up the Benson's carburetor. He's good." Burt found the book he was looking for and he opened up to the list of employees. "I'm adding him to the books."

Kurt frowned. "That's really unlike you to hire someone so... on the spot."

Burt took a moment to finish writing Blaine's name into the book. "I just need an address now." He shut the book and tossed it to the other side of his desk, then turned around to face his son. "Sometimes, Kurt, you just gotta say what the hell."

"I guess."

Burt stood up. "Now come help me finish up this one touch up job on a dent and then we'll order a pizza."

"Dad." Kurt warned.

"Fine. With a side salad."

"That's more like it." Kurt laughed, put an arm around his father's shoulder, and the two of them walked out of the office.

* * *

It took Blaine completely by surprise how quickly his father cut him off from everything. He was ten minutes away from his house when he went to look at his phone, only to see that his service was gone. Fifteen minutes later, he went to grab something to eat at a connivence store, and his credit card was denied. The very friendly older cashier offered to let it slide, but Blaine had too much pride to let her pay. He left the food on the counter and walked out.

Fast forward twenty four hours. He was now sitting against the brick wall of a 7-11 in one of those areas Tony the truck driver told him wasn't a good place to be. There was general discomfort all around. First and foremost, Blaine felt gross. He hadn't showered in about two days, and he was wearing the same clothes he left his house in. Not to mention the fact that his gel only held his hair in place for a maximum of twenty four hours and it's effects were wearing off. Blaine kept running his fingers through his curls, trying to tame them as much as he could. This was Blaine Anderson's worst nightmare come true.

Besides that, Blaine's stomach was growling like crazy. He tried to forget that he hadn't eaten in hours, but the painful cramps in his stomach were a constant reminder that yes, even Blaine Anderson needs to eat.

"Hey kid." Blaine looked up from his people watching. A middle aged woman was standing in front of him, cradling a rather large US Postal Service carton in her arms. She looked like Sofia Vergara plus ten years of aging plus ten years of additional drug use. She looked like she hadn't showered in god knows how long.

But who was Blaine to judge a person based on their looks? She was the first of the many people outside of that 7-11 to even acknowledge his presence. He smiled at her and gave her a wave. "Good evening!"

"So fucking formal." She laughed. She put down her carton and got on the ground, sitting Indian style almost on top of Blaine. "Got a name, honey?"

"Blaine."

She studied him. "You look more like a Charlie. My ex-boyfriend was named Charlie. Biggest dumbass."

Blaine shrugged.

"So, Blaine. What brings you out here? Waiting for your girlfriend?" Blaine shook his head. "Do you have a girlfriend?" He shook his head once more. "So if I invited you to come back to my place and get dirty of me under the covers, you wouldn't reject me?"

"Ex-excuse me?" Blaine sputtered out innocently.

The woman laughed and grabbed a glass bottle of vodka out of her postal service carton. "Don't worry. I don't even have a place. That's why I carry around this." She motioned to her carton and leaned in close to Blaine, her warm, alcohol filled breath on his face. "It's illegal to touch a postal service carton. Ya know that?"

"Oh, really?" Blaine backed away slightly, the totally artificial smile still plastered onto his face. He was afraid to piss off this woman.

Blaine's stomach growled loudly.

She laughed again. She stopped for a moment and fished around through the carton until she pulled out a small bag of Herrs popcorn. She tossed it over to Blaine. "Damn straight. You didn't answer my question, by the way. What are y'all doing out here?"

Blaine froze while he was opening up the bag. "I-," Blaine started, wondering if he should tell this woman the truth or not. He had never really spoken to a stranger like this before. "I got kicked out of my house."

"I got kicked out of my house before once too!" The stranger said happily, catching Blaine off guard. "My mom caught me screwing her third husband." She pulled up one of the legs on her pants to reveal a scar that went all the way up her leg. "See? She tried to stab me and threw me out the door when she realized her parole officer would put her back in jail if she actually hurt me."

Blaine's eyes had never gone wider.

The woman pulled her pant leg back down and went back to her spot right on top of Blaine's right leg. "So why did you get kicked out, sugar?"

This is the part where he didn't know what to say. So he said the first excuse that came to mind. "Drugs."

The woman's eyes widened, and Blaine could sense an excited aura radiating off of her. "You? What kind? Meth? Coke?"

"I was holding them," Blaine paused. "For a friend." He decided that was a good enough answer and shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

She looked unimpressed and a tad bit skeptical. "Oh."

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments. Blaine continued person watching until the stranger spoke again. "What are you doing?"

"Watching people." he answered.

"Why?"

"You see, no one's the same." Blaine answered her, watching a woman in penguin pajamas walking into the store with some curlers still in her hair. "Everyone has such different looks and mannerisms. It reminds me of how this world is so huge. There's billions of people and nobody is exactly the same. You kind of forget that when you just focus on the people you see everyday. There's so many places and people to discover out there!"

The woman raised an eyebrow and snorted. "Are you sure you're not high?"

"I'm sure." Blaine said. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Right now, I'm Alex. Fridays through Sundays from 7pm to 5am or however long I'm getting paid, I'm Kitty. You wanna know why they call me that? It all started when I had this Nicolas Cage look-a-like for a client, and he asked me to-"

Alex went on to tell Blaine the exact reason on how and why she got the nickname Kitty. The story went on for about twenty minutes. After that, she passed out on top of Blaine and began to snore. Blaine lightly slid out from underneath her and got away, knowing that he would probably never be the same again.

* * *

A week and and a half after Blaine was hired at Hummel Tire and Lube, Burt figured out that Blaine didn't actually have a place to live.

Burt had his suspicions from day one. Blaine showed up to work in the same outfit for the first three days. On the fourth day, he smelt so bad that Burt made him go clean up in the shower stall they had behind the garage. Blaine said it was because his apartment's water wasn't working, but it would be up soon. Burt didn't believe him.

The Department of Labor required Burt to hold the addresses and other information of every employee. Burt kept asking Blaine, but Blaine would claim that he forgot because he just moved in, and would get it to Burt tomorrow. Finally, one week after being hired, Blaine gave him an address.

A few days later, Burt woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep. He laid there in bed, thinking about everything, from Kurt being away at Nationals and going to college in September, to Michael and his health, and then to Blaine. Blaine was a great kid. He showed up to work with a smile on his face on time, and stayed later to help Burt close up. For a week and a half, Blaine really impressed Burt with his knowledge of cars and high energy level. But everyday when he watched Blaine walk out of the garage and down the sidewalk downtown, he felt like something was really off.

Burt looked over at the clock. 4:07. Hell, he wasn't getting back to sleep. He threw the covers off of himself, got out of bed, and went into the kitchen to get his car keys.

He put the address that Blaine gave him into the GPS Kurt bought him for Christmas two years earlier. It brought him downtown, one of the worst areas in Lima.

"You have arrived at your destination." The British woman's voice (Stefani, Kurt liked to call her) announced.

Burt was confused. Stefani had brought him to the Sheetz Coffee.

"Damn thing." Burt muttered and reentered the address Blaine gave him into the GPS.

"You have arrived at your destination." Stefani said again.

Burt tried again.

"You have arrived at your destination." Stefani said again.

Burt looked around. There was no residential buildings around here. The stupid kid gave him a false address. He lied. Burt got out of the car, cursing under his breath. If he drove all the way out here, he was at least getting a coffee out of the deal.

Five minutes later, Burt walked out of Sheetz, his favorite breakfast blend coffee warming up his hands, when he heard coughing coming from the side of the building. A cough that he had been listening to for the past few days, he might add. He walked around the side of the building and saw Blaine, curled up in a ball and sleeping on the sidewalk. A USPS carton was next to him.

Burt crouched down next to him and shook his shoulder. "Blaine."

Blaine's eyes opened up slowly. "Burt?" he yawned.

"The hell are you doing out here?"

"Sleeping." Blaine said.

"Here?"

Blaine nodded. "It's not as uncomfortable as it looks."

"You sleep here often?" Burt arched an eyebrow.

"Every night. Except for the first night, when that woman took away my innocence." Blaine yawned again and slowly sat up. "This is what happens when your parents kick you out of the house and disown you, I guess."

Burt didn't know what to say. He just stared at Blaine, who was studying at his own shoes. Finally, Burt stood up, picked up the carton, and motioned for Blaine to follow him.

"A little early for work, dontcha think?" Blaine stretched and slowly got up. "It's like, two in the morning."

"We're not going to work right now. Get in the car."

Blaine obliged.

* * *

Kurt was walking on air when he walked through the front door of his house a few days later.

"I just love New York so much!" he raved to his father, who was behind him, carrying two of his four suitcases. "I can't wait until September when I go again. And this time for three months at a time! I've gotta get you a Parsons hat. And can you believe we won first place? I'm ecstatic! Life is great!"

Burt tried to interject. "That sounds great Kurt, but-"

"The smell of New York!" Kurt interrupted. "If they sold it as an air freshener, it would be all over this house. And that's saying something. You know how much I love my Linen and Sky Febreze! I would spray it on my body too, but it would ruin my clothes and what if it gave me a rash? I can't risk ruining the skin I've spent eighteen years perfecting."

Burt sighed. He had been trying to talk to Kurt the entire way home from the airport, but he had barely gotten in a hello.

"I can't wait to eat! Plane food does not satisfy. Lets go out to eat. I just have to go put my bags down in my room."

"Kurt-"

"I'm glad to be home though, don't get me wrong! I love home! I missed you! I can't wait to catch up!" Kurt opened the door to his bedroom and walked down the stairs.

Burt let out an exasperated sigh and gave up. He went into the kitchen to see if they had anymore beer in the fridge.

Kurt got down the stairs and placed his bags on the floor. He looked around the room. This was home. No matter where he went to study or live after this, this bedroom was where he had spent the last eleven years of his life. He was going to miss it. It seemed like only yesterday that-

Hold on. Kurt spotted a pile of unfamiliar clothes on the floor at the end of his bed. There was a bottle of cheap hair gel on his dresser, surrounded by a few food wrappers. One of Hummel Tire and Lube uniforms was hanging on the closet door. There was a random USPS carton filled with miscellaneous items. He walked farther into his room until he reached the end of his bed. That's when he saw the mess of brown curls peaking out from under the duvet and Kurt realized that there was a stranger in his bed.


End file.
